


Da is Yes

by AnotherAnon0



Series: Seeking... Something [2]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Fight Sex, Fluff, M/M, Nicholai is an asshole, Oral Sex, Russian Lessons, Russophobia, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24200965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAnon0/pseuds/AnotherAnon0
Summary: Nicholai and Murphy have a heated exchange at the barracks Christmas party.A follow-up to "Seeking... Something."~"Russian only." Nicholai whispered breathily, his cheekbone grazing the younger man's nose as he dipped closer to his ear."I don't... I can't..." Murphy began to stammer in quiet confusion, "Wh..."
Relationships: Murphy Seeker/Nikolai Zinoviev
Series: Seeking... Something [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1746628
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	Da is Yes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FanFicReader01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFicReader01/gifts).



His therapist had told him alcohol and the medication he was on didn't mix.

_Why didn't I listen?_

The blaring music of the Christmas party felt like it had penetrated every cell in his head, echoing and reverberating abusively. Every passing face was a haze, every light a drawn out cord whipping around him, blinding him as he stumbled by. The barracks were suddenly an unfamiliar place. Halls wound in ways they never did before, down paths that made no sense. Murphy just wanted to get away from the _sounds_.

_A door._

He flinched slightly when his arm roughly collided with the familiar, cool metal of a crashbar. Unknowing and uncaring of where it went. The stairs caught him off guard, and he was lucky to have not stumbled down them any more than he did, catching the railing and pulling himself up after a few missteps. 

The darkness immediately calmed him. The beating in his throat slowed as he focused on carefully side-stepping down the lengthy stairs down to what he was sure had to have been the basement. The music faded behind the heavy door that had slammed behind him with every moment of his descent. 

Normally, Murphy would avoid darkness. Avoid total silence. Avoid loneliness. But his mind was reeling, and nothing made sense.

Scraping across the cement, a prodding boot confirmed he'd reached continuous ground. Cautiously, he began to search for a place to sit and rest, the dim light of an emergency bulb dangling above the nearby furnace catching his eye and calling him into its safe warmth. 

The closer he moved, however, the more caustic the air became. And the sudden wisp of smoke grazing past the streaks of light forced him to stop in his tracks.

_What's that smell?_

"Here to miss more targets, Seeker?"

Murphy gasped, eyes lurching through the dimly-lit room until he caught a glimpse of the faint, red ember was visible floating close to the back of the room. The voice was unmistakable. Sardonic drips spilling across the cement floor, insults manifesting into shadows that nipped at his boots demonically. 

_Him._

Nicholai stepped a bit closer, the faint emergency light just barely providing him a detailed outline. His left arm was crossed over his chest, hand tucked into the fold of the other arm that was raised, a long, white cigarette dangling from between his fingers.

Murphy furrowed his brow, huffing a shaky breath, "You're not supposed to be smokin'. Cap' sa--"

The older man clicked his tongue sarcastically, rolling his bottom lip in a mocking pout, "Aw, are you going to call _daddy Mikhail_?"

"We... Fo... I..." Murphy stammered, trying to formulate a response but words catching in his throat. He watched Nicholai bring the cigarette to his lips again, taking a deep drag and leaving it to linger between them as he blew the smoke out of his nose. 

After one of the mercenaries -- a great sharpshooter from Slovenia -- had been diagnosed with lung cancer, Captain Mikhail Victor had put a moratorium on smoking in the barracks. A hasty, emotional move from a hasty, emotional man who loved his troops too much, but a rule that had been passed in place nonetheless. 

Nicholai didn't seem to ever care about the rules. And, Murphy noticed, Mikhail never seemed to try to enforce rules with him. 

_Why don't you care that everyone is scared of you?_

He realised he'd been watching Nicholai speak without hearing him, the other man's lips suddenly catching as he clearly caught that the younger soldier hadn't heard a word he'd said. He wondered how long he'd been zoned out for. Nicholai's cigarette was a bit shorter.

"Headcase." Nicholai spat smugly, cigarette bobbing between his lips as he spoke. He plucked the slender tube out, smoke leaking out of his mouth and nose casually matched the hot drip of insults, "And you were a _Marine_? Pathetic."

_He's right._

There was a familiar burning at the back of his throat. He knew if the thick layer of tears welling up across his hazel eyes weren't already visible in the dim light of the boiler room, they would be the moment they began to cascade down his flushed cheeks.

Nicholai stalked closer to him, taking another long drag of his cigarette. The younger man involuntarily moved back, fists steeling at his sides.

"You're **_ill_**. They should have never hired you."

_I know._

"Fuc..k off! Just fuck off you commie pig!"

The haphazard punch Murphy attempted was easily dodged and caught. Nicholai used the younger man's arm as leverage to push him back against the nearest wall with a rapid shoulder check, a fistful of Murphy's shirt collar firmly securing him.

"Just as bad at fighting as you are at shooting, hm?" The cigarette that had hung on between Nicholai's lips was dripping ash -- grey interpolated with fading red whimsically raining in the meticulously tiny gap between their bodies. The older man used his free hand to pluck the dwindled tube from his lips, casting it to the cement floor unceremoniously. 

Murphy caught a smirk pull at the corners of Nicholai's lips before the cloud of smoke hit his face, burning his eyes, blurring his vision.

He'd never smoked before. His attempts at suppressing a sickened cough were fruitless, and the immediate hacks prompted a cruel, bellowing laugh from the older man who released his collar so he could catch his breath. 

"F.. fuck you." He coughed, sucking air through his teeth, "You're such an asshole."

Nicholai always seemed to take joy in humiliating him. He was an incessant target, the cruel prodding particularly harsh when the Sergeant's equally abusive platoon were audience. A former sniper for the Soviet special forces, Nicholai had been assigned to re-train the younger man, but the re-training was often simply hours of ridicule for what he perceived was substandard performance. 

Nothing was ever good enough for him, and Murphy hated that it hurt him so _damn_ much.

"What the hell did I do to you?!" Murphy tried to bark, but the words were more of a beg stuffed in the hoarseness of a stifled cough, "I'm trying goddamnit!"

Murphy sniffled, raising a hand to quickly wipe the tears that had pebbled down his cheeks.

He knew he looked pathetic. The embarrassment made the flush across his cheeks burn even harder. A part of him wanted to run away, but he couldn't -- Nicholai hadn't moved, even after he'd released him. They were boot-to-boot, chests inches away from each other, Murphy's back to the wall, and Nicholai towering over him with a pensive look drawing calculations across his pale face. 

Silence but for sobbing and gasping. Nicholai clicked his tongue.

" _Volkov boyat'sa, v les ne khodit."_

The foreign syllables caught Murphy off-guard. He wiped the underside of his red, freckled nose on his palm, looking up at the slightly taller man with glassy eyes. 

"Wha'?"

Nicholai repeated the Russian slowly, rubbing his lips together before addressing the younger man in English, "Do you avoid the forest just because you are afraid of wolves?"

Murphy rolled his eyes, somehow unconsciously uncaring of the pin-thin space between them, "Oh great, it's Ruskie wisdom time!" He said sarcastically, "Yeah, idiot, don't go into the forest if there's a wolf."

The consciousness set in when Nicholai placed a hand on the wall just above his shoulder, muscular arm hovering hairs away from his temple. He wasn't just close anymore as a result of a happenstance tussle. He was intentionally _looming,_ filling every inch of the younger man's sensory landscape. The realisation sobered Murphy rapidly. 

"Cautiousness is..." Nicholai hissed quietly, " ** _cowardice_**."

The slithering wisp of air coiled into Murphy's ear with a tickle. The older man's blue eyes were glittering with an oceanic amusement under the dim drip of emergency light. He'd never seen them this close before. They contained multitudes of emotion and tone, communicating as clearly as though they were speaking directly to him. Murphy swallowed a breath. It somehow got stuck in his throat.

"N.. no." A meek peep.

"Russian only." Nicholai whispered breathily, his cheekbone grazing the younger man's nose as he dipped closer to his ear. Murphy's chest tightened.

"I don't... I can't..." Murphy began to stammer in quiet confusion, "Wh..."

He could feel the older man's cheeks pulling into a smile, every warm breath beating against his ear sending electric currents down his spine that threatened his sanity.

_What is happening?_

" _Da_ is yes." Emphasis was placed on the curt Russian syllable, Nicholai's voice ushering itself so deep Murphy couldn't contain a pathetic, whimper-like moan, " _Nyet_ is no."

He wasn't sure if he wanted to protest, hazy-mind still sounding an anxiety-ridden alarm warning Nicholai's intentions may have been to further humiliate him. But before he could form a coherent thought or decision, his lips were being swallowed, sucked, licked, prodded -- forced open by an interrogative, rough tongue that demanded passage. 

Murphy submitted to the hand on the back of his head quickly, languishing in the breathless kiss that pushed him closer, pulling him in. He could taste the lingering cigarette in Nicholai's mouth, and he was sure the older man could taste the liquor in his. It didn't matter. Nothing did. 

When Nicholai broke away, Murphy gasped in desperation and deprivation. 

" _Da illi nyet_?" Nicholai ran his tongue over his moist lips, eyes darting across the flushed landscape of the younger man's freckled face.

Navigating the obvious question in his mind for a moment, Murphy's blush immediately blossomed a layer of deeper red, " _D.. da._."

The Russian was awkward stumbling through the swollen lips of the Bronx boy, but Nicholai was satisfied regardless. 

" _Khorosho_."

Murphy's brow furrowed in confusion at the new sounds, but the state of momentary distraction was rapidly broken as Nicholai dropped to one knee, prompting a gasp from the younger man as he watched him begin to expertly wrangle his belt loose. One leg folded beneath him and one arm propped on his raised knee, Nicholai was smirking, casting the occasional, amused glance up at the gape-mouthed expression fixated on him.

The belt had slipped out of the pant loops with a snake-like slither. Murphy didn't notice where Nicholai had thrown it. He didn't care. The pale fingers popping open the button of his pants and dancing over their zipper was the only thing he could focus on. But Nicholai paused just before the final tug would have fully loosened the fabric, looking up with a smirk.

" _Khochesh', chtoby ya_?" He said, deep voice infected with the haze of lust, " _Da illi nyet_...?

It didn't matter what the first question had been, though the mercenary felt like he psychically knew. Nicholai's eyes were telling him.

" _Da... Da_..." Murphy swallowed, supplementing his poor Russian with eager nods. 

The wall behind him knocked loudly when the back of his head hit it, his body involuntarily bucking when Nicholai took him into his mouth.

The older man's mouth was hot. Too hot. It felt like it was burning him, casting flames in his stomach that licked up into his lungs, tightening his throat. Choking him. Every muscle was cramping. 

His hand had robotically moved to rest on the back of Nicholai's head, fingers interlocking in short locks of soft, silver hair. He wasn't sure if he was applying pressure or not. Nicholai didn't seem to care, flashes of twilight grabbing his attention every few deep passes across the length of his firm arousal. 

_Deep_.

Murphy could just barely feel the tight, ragged muscles of Nicholai's throat, grabbing him selfishly. The rings of firm, ribbed tissue were simultaneously trying to deny him access while drawing him in deeper. An impossible, but desperate, demand.

"F... Fuck!" 

A deep, animalistic slurp accompanied the older man pulling away, a string of pearly precum dangling from the bottom of his swollen lips. Murphy gasped in transmuted mix of pleasure and pain when he was left exposed.

" _Blyat_." Nicholai corrected flatly, throaty voice raspy after the use it had endured.

" _Bly... at_." Murphy repeated quickly, relieved when obedience rapidly returned him to the warmth of the older man's mouth. Nicholai took him deeply again, his nose nestling against the neat bed of strawberry blonde hair at the base of the younger man's cock. That brief pause made Murphy whine pathetically, free hand beating against the wall behind him excitedly through ragged breaths. 

It wasn't long before he'd emptied himself at the back of Nicholai's throat, his hand tightening its grip in the older man's hair as he steadied himself, bending at the waist slightly. The Sergeant allowed Murphy to control his climax, holding with deep, slow sucks until the quivering mercenary was ready to release him, hand quickly falling away from the back of his head apologetically.

Nicholai dragged his lips across the length of Murphy's cock as he pulled away, filthy slurping noises prompting a sigh from the younger man as he watched his superior eagerly swallow what he'd been fed, tongue even dipping back out to lick the small pearl that had been neglected at the end of the softening organ. 

" _Otlichnya_." Nicholai said, widely licking his lips in amusement before translating the short word, "Very good."

He rose to his feet effortlessly, gracefully. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments -- blue on hazel -- and for that moment it wasn't venomous.

Just for that moment.

Nicholai cocked his lip, huffing a sardonic breath out of his nose before turning on the heels of his boots and beginning towards the stairway at the far end of the boiler room. It was only then that Murphy realised he was still exposed, and began rapidly tucking himself away in a dash to restore some semblance of whatever dignity he thought he'd lost. The belt Nicholai had tossed away alluded him for a moment, but he found it discarded, just barely visible, below the edge of the furnace. 

"H-hey.." Murphy began, trying to loop his belt through his pants while haphazardly following the older man, "Are... are we gonna' see each other again?"

"We see each other every day, Seeker." 

Murphy shook his head, sighing in annoyance, hands failing at his buckle in nervous anxiety. 

"No, but... like..."

Nicholai stopped at the foot of the stairway, casting a pursed-lipped glance over his shoulder.

"I smoke down here at night sometimes."

It was something.

**Author's Note:**

> First, translations:
> 
> "Volkov boyat'sa — v les ne khodit." -- A Russian proverb. Literally "Don't be afraid to go into the woods [because of the wolves]." Roughly, fear is no excuse to not undertake a task/excel/be better. 
> 
> "Da / Nyet" = Very obviously, Yes and No.
> 
> "Da illi Nyet?" = "Yes or no?"
> 
> "Khorosho." = Very well.
> 
> "Khochesh', chtoby ya?" = Do you want me to?
> 
> "Blyat." = Fuck/Shit/ a general swear word in Russian.
> 
> ~
> 
> This was fun. I am thinking I would like to write more Murphy/Nicholai in the future. Hopefully I don't do as I did for the first part of this and FREAKING DELETE THE WHOLE THING BY ACCIDENT. >_>
> 
> If you commented on my original piece (I know Bishop did) I AM SO SORRY. I am not ignoring you. I literally deleted the entire piece so I cannot respond lmfao I am an idiot.
> 
> Let me know if you enjoyed it! :D


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